I suck in a breath. I haven’t quit. But I’ve been wondering if I should, and his words hit home.
“Did you, Twix? Did you?” Nate demands.
“No,” I admit, my voice quiet.
“What? Speak louder. Can’t hear you in here.”
My cheeks burn even though he isn’t here to see me. “I said no.”
“That’s right. ’Cuz you’re, er…phone hippo!”
Phone hippo?
“You’re a hippo… Hippo… Christ, hippo-crip! Fuck, my mouth is dry. I need another drink.”
“The last thing you need is more alcohol,” I say sternly, even though my insides feel like they’re going through a blender, and my head is hurting trying to follow this conversation. “Take Court home. And you both need to sleep it off.”
“Fuck you, hippo-crip! Fuck you, I drink what I want.”
“Nate.”
“You can’t make me do shit. I’m a free man.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’ll be easier for me to just go over there or send somebody. Like Yuna. I still have her on my phone. “Where are you?”
“Z. But you can’t come. I told the bouncer to kick your ass out if you show. Yer on the blacklist. Never get in. Equal opportunity, Hershey. That’s like equal ass-kicking.”
A hammer starts beating in my head as I try to parse his drunken raving. I don’t care about getting inside Z. As awesome as the club is, it isn’t my typical hangout. But the fact that they’re at the club makes me relax a little. It’s owned by Court’s brother. The people there aren’t going to let anything happen to their boss’s family.
“Bye, Nate.”
Hanging up, I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath to center myself. Damn Nate. He isn’t wrong about quitting the job. As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about it ever since I left Court’s place.
Sighing, I lean against the glass deck door. Curie comes over and puts a gentle hand on my arm. “Are you all right?”
I start to nod, then shake my head. My sister can tell I’m not okay. At all. No point in lying.
She pulls me toward the couch. We sit close, like we used to when we were girls.
“So. Work-related?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Court’s best friend. They went out and got wasted. Nate’s so gone he kept calling me a hippo-crip.”
“A hippo-crip? Is that some new slang?”
We look at each other for a moment. “A big member of an L.A. gang…?” I stop as it finally hits me that Nate’s been trying to call me a hypocrite, for God’s sake. But the exasperation lasts only a moment. My chest feels like my heart has been scooped out, and I put a hand over it.
Curie peers at me. “What is it?”
“He’s right. I am a hypocrite for staying at a job I might not have earned, especially after getting upset with Court about it.” Curie’s already heard all of it. And since she knows me as well as she knows herself, she wisely refrained from giving too much input, just letting me vent and rant.
“But are you sure? You love OWM.”
I bite my lower lip. She’s totally right about how I feel about my work, which is why this is so hard. But my gut says I need to do what’s right, and what’s right is not keeping what I didn’t earn. I’ve never done that, and I’m not going to start now.
Doing the right thing doesn’t keep your bank account healthy, my mind whispers.
But not doing the right thing will sicken my soul.